Coming Home
by wedgetail
Summary: ***ENDGAME SPOILERS*** New York celebrates. Peter gets a lift home from an old friend. But the events of the past years can't be undone nor the losses forgotten.


Peter stuck his head out the passenger-side window. He had never seen New York like this. The buildings and the streetlights stood dark and aloof, while below, the streets were flooded with people and light. Piles of rubbish bags and rusting frames of abandoned cars, which had clearly sat out in the streets for a long time, were hurriedly being shifted as far off to the side as possible to make way for what had to be the largest party in the history of humanity.

Food and drink flowed freely, but not nearly as freely as warm embraces and tears of jubilation. It was very late in the night, less than an hour remained until sunrise, yet the party seemed to be only ramping up. The world was in for a severe hangover when the fervour of celebration finally died down.

'Close the window,' Happy said tersely. While ostensibly driving, he dedicated most of his effort to honking in order to get the rowdy crowd to part long enough for the car to pass through.

Chewing on his lip, Peter did as he was told. 'Surely you have somewhere you'd rather be. I can make it back on my own.'

'Tony'd want to be certain you're looked after,' Happy replied. His voice remained even, but something in his face fell.

Peter twisted his hands together. It was ridiculous, of course, to suggest that he needed looking after. He was Spider-man. He was an Avenger. He had fought Thanos, twice. If Peter did encounter something he couldn't take care of on his own, Happy would hardly be a help. And yet he couldn't bring himself to voice any kind of counter-argument to Happy's words.

Both of them had little to say as Happy steered the car deeper into Queens, which was just as well, because Happy used the honker almost continuously through the last few blocks.

'All the nights are out,' Happy noted when they finally pulled up at Peter's block. 'I'll come up with you.'

'Don't be ridiculous. I'll be ok. Aunt May is probably down here, celebrating with everyone else. I'll find her.' Peter forced a smile. 'Thanks for the lift.'

'It's no problem.' Happy said as he straightened the collar of his shirt. 'Hey, kid, it's great to have you back.'

It seemed like Happy did have somewhere he preferred to be, because Peter had anticipated a lengthy argument. But Peter wasn't one to look a gift-horse in the mouth. He climbed out of the car and cheerfully waved Happy goodbye.

Once the car slipped out of sight, Peter glanced around at the people out on the street. No one looked familiar.

It seemed folly to blindly scout the streets in this chaos. He sprinted up the front steps and tilted the wide ceramic flower-pot that stood by the doorway. The plant it had housed was long dead and apparently, no one had bothered to move the pot in last five years because the spare set of keys Peter had hidden beneath it were still there. The lock was in need of oiling, but Peter managed to get it open. Seven floors up, the lock to the apartment itself was no better; he nearly snapped the key in half before he finally got the door-handle to turn.

'May!' he called out. 'Aunt May?'

Outside, a firework soared up and burst high over the street. Peter shivered. While the rest of the world celebrated, for Peter the sound of Thanos' artillery was too recent and his nerves too raw.

'May?' he tried again, walking deeper into the apartment.

A second firework explored outside, showering the street in green sparks. But the flash had also briefly flooded the apartment with light.

The apartment was empty.

Peter reflexively reached for the light switch and rolled his eyes at his own idiocy when the switch failed to work. The entire city was in darkness, why would the apartment be any different? Sighing, he checked each room. All he found was an abandoned box of old kitchenware and two empty cans of insect spray.

It didn't make sense. Aunt May had survived whatever the hell had happened, Happy had been certain of that. Peter rubbed at his eyes, feeling for the first time the full brunt of his tiredness - he had no idea how long it had been since he last slept. His mind now strained to process what was in front of him. In the end, he decided that Happy mightn't have kept track of things over the past years. Five years was a long time, a million things could have happened.

Peter nudged the box of old tupperware and chipped mugs with his foot, then gritted his teeth as someone set off another round of fireworks. If Aunt May was gone, where were all their things? He supposed someone might have packed everything away or given everything to someone in need. He didn't have a firm grasp of what he had missed, but he had picked up enough hints to realise it had been a dark time for just about everyone.

If his stuff or May's helped someone, he was glad. But what was he supposed to do now? Who was there to even ask what had happened? Happy's had been at the end of his rope already, Peter couldn't in good conscience ask the man for anything right now. Hell, he didn't even have a phone to ring from. In fact, did phones still work? The power grid was down.

Cold dread settled deep in Peter's chest. He was alone. Just him, a cold, empty apartment and a dusty floor. Oh, and some chipped mugs.

The hair on his forearms twitched. Peter slunk into the darkness of the kitchen just as the apartment door swung open and the warm light of a flashlight beamed in.

'Aunt May?' Peter rushed out.

'Peter?' she said uncertainly. They ended up frozen in place two feet apart, staring at one other. Happy looked a touch older, yes, but May seemed to have aged by a decade. Her hair, speckled with grey, was cut short and she wore a mottled sweater that had lost much of its shape. 'This is real, isn't it?'

Peter threw himself into her embrace. 'There's nothing here, I thought… I thought something terrible had happened.'

'Something terrible did happen.' She held him, her tears flowing freely, but eventually, she composed herself enough to continue. 'Tony Stark came one day, looking like a man halfway to the grave himself, and explained what had happened. I couldn't stay here on my own - too dangerous and too morbid. But it seems like everyone is back now and I thought that if you came back, you'd come back here.'

'Yeah, we… Thanos is gone. Everyone, well, nearly everyone is back.'

'Peter, are you all right?

He pulled back until he could look her in the eye and attempted to swallow the growing lump in his throat. 'I know it's been five years for you. For me, it wasn't that long at all - just one moment to another. Do you… There's probably no place for me where you live now, since you thought I wasn't coming back.'

'We'll sort it out,' May said. 'It'll all be chaos for a while, but we'll figure it out. I'll move the furniture back in here; you can re-enrol at your school. Maybe you can get back to working on the Stark Internship too. He was very fond of you and the neighbourhood -.'

'He didn't make it. I was there. He fixed everything, but he didn't make it.' Peter willed himself not to lose it, but his body betrayed him.

'Peter, darling.' May pulled him towards her and next he knew, he was sobbing into his aunt's shoulder while outside, bursts of fireworks greeted the first rays of the rising sun.

* * *

A/N: Loved it? Hated it? Either way, do let me know what you thought


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